Deals with the Devil
by IssyRomana97
Summary: "'Excuse me' He took that step back towards Gill, so his face was practically resting against hers and whispered, 'I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner. With me. Tomorrow evening.'" Gill should've known better than to trust the Devil. Swearing.


_This was written at one in the morning, so I apologize in advance for not reading it through, and the probable errors. A little Gill story, based on the trailer for next week. Enjoy!_

She had always thought that if you were a Detective Constable or a Detective Chief Inspector in a relationship where the other party was cheating, that you they would realize it. They spend all day tracking down criminals who can evade any other human being, and nearly every time, they catch the little bugger who did it and can bang him up inside for a few years. She thought that when it came to personal matters, she would be able to see past the end of her nose. At work, she can pick up on the tiniest thing that could be wrong with the picture, any tiny little detail that meant the capture or evasion of someone. And even with other people's relationships, she could see it.

Take Rachel for example. She was a good kid, a great one actually, and she had a lot of brains that helped out the MIT quite frequently. One day, she would be proud to hand the kid her own job on a silver platter. But look at how that tosser Nick Savage had fooled her around for two years before she realized. And then, after everything he did to her, she went back to him. Even Janet noticed that the kid was being screwed around, and she could see the best in everybody.

But Janet was being overly naïve in her personal situation as well now. Her relationship with Adrian had shattered into pieces, and she had no time to pick them back up, and so Andy jumped on the bandwagon. She knew it wasn't good to think ill of her officers, especially her sergeant, but if Andy kept pursuing Janet when she told him not to, she would be having words with him. She wasn't going to let her best friend get ruined because of a bloke.

She liked to believe that after everything she had been through with her ex that she was wise with her heart now. Of course, it came in second to her job anyway – everything did, even Sammy (which she hated to admit) – but it was important that she didn't get distracted. For twenty years, she had been had by her bastard of an ex-husband and now that chapter of her life was over and she was free. Or so she thought.

Bringing in the review team was never fun – not for any police station – but especially when Mandy Saunders is still on bloody maternity leave and Dirty Dave is acting head. She swears someone up there has it in for her.

Probably her mother.

**Scott&Bailey**

To say DCI Gill Murray was exhausted would have been an understatement. The latest case – that poor taxi cab driver who had been brutally murdered by those racist bastards – had been one of the, how did she put it, _lighter_ cases since the whole thing with Nadia Hicks a few months back, but still gruelling. She often wondered how people did it. How they just made the decision to end someone's life based on their skin. Everyone goes through shit at some point, that's no excuse for a normal murder, but just because of where they're from? Freaks.

Things were still streaming through the system from the case in Bristol and who had to do all the paperwork and conversations with other forces? Gill Murray of course – who else? She had to talk to all the newspapers, assure everyone that the case had come to a finish, try to round and smooth all the rough edges. And of course, Sherlock had decided to ring her in the early hours of the morning, obviously off her head, and talk to her about Geoff Hastings. Even the name of that…man made her want to hit someone. But Rachel had made a good point, and so she had spent her whole day checking up on how expensive the whole thing was going to be, and arresting the bastards who had killed that twenty year old.

Janet's idea had been, yeah, unethical, but had given good results. They were one step closer to bringing some peace to those poor families who had been suffering for God knows how many years. That was probably the most satisfying thing about this job – apart from locking up some of the vilest creatures that could only just be classified as human beings; being able to give families peace of minds. To tell them that they were finally safe.

The day was finally drawing to a close. Gill manoeuvred around her office whilst still sat on her chair, not being bothered to get up and walk. She chucked some files into the right cabinet, making a promise that she would do it all properly tomorrow. Back at her desk, she took a swig of coffee (the only thing that kept her going before she got some whiskey) and proceeded to check her emails. Luckily, there were only three new messages in her inbox – two from Bristol giving her some further information on Jeremy Leach, and one from the senior management with another case.

It was another murder; a young girl, sixteen years old. Found at the side of a road in the outskirts of the city about an hour ago by a hitchhiker, probably dumped there at around four this morning. She glanced down at her watch. _Eight fifteen_, she thought quietly, _poor kid_. Apparently she had been asphyxiated – bruises around the neck proved so – and then stabbed, but it wasn't clear if she had still been alive at that point. Gill looked at the pictures attached to the image, and her heart sank.

The girl was pretty. Quite tall, but slim, with lovely blonde hair which looked like it had been cut off in hurried chunks. Maybe to prevent someone from identifying her; it was one of the first rules of identification – hair is one of the most defining features a person can have. Stab wounds were deep, not deep enough to kill, but deep enough to allow someone to slowly bleed to the point of death, and the welts around the neck contrasted severely against the pale skin.

One thing Gill still liked about herself in this job was that she still had her compassion. She had seen some DCI's over the years who had been so enthralled and enraptured within catching a killer that all emotions for the deceased went flying out of the window. Gill prided herself on still being able to talk to a victim's family, and feel remorse for why she had to be there.

Suddenly there was a knock of her wide open door, and she did not bother to lift her head, but clearly said, 'Come in, and shut the door if you want to.' Eyes still on the computer screen, someone sat down opposite her and cleared their throat loudly. Gill recognized who it was immediately, and no, she was not pleased.

She tore her eyes away from the screen, replaced her glasses on her desk next to her bag which was already packed ready for her to go, and glared at the man opposite her. She leant back in her chair and seriously contemplated putting her feet up on the desk. But that would be childish.

'What do you want?' she asked briskly, her tone cool and uninviting. Dave Murray smiled at her, and mirrored her actions by leaning back in his chair as well. He looked at the glare she was sending in his direction, and he thought if looks could kill, he would have been dead and buried three years ago.

He cleared his throat again, but before he could get to answering, Gill's phone rang inside her bag. She yanked it out and told him to shut it before she answered it.

'Hello? Alright then…Okay, I'll be home later Sammy…Yes, I'm still at work…Yes, I'll probably go to the pub and then come home…You can't put macaroni in the microwave by yourself?...You're twenty Sammy…Alright, I'll see you later…Right…Bye.'

She hung up her mobile and flung it, to all intents and purposes, back inside her bag and turned back to Dave, with a winning smile on her face. 'Sorry, what did you want?'

Before he could be interrupted again, Dave hurried into a brief explanation of indeed, what he was doing. 'I just came to check that all the paperwork had been caught up with. I seem to be missing a report from the in-house psychologist about Leach's suicide and…'

'I sent you that report last week. Did you not read it? I made sure it was right at the top of your workload, you must not have been paying much attention David,' Gill said curtly, instantly cutting off his explanation. He smirked at her, and that infuriated her. How could he smirk at her after everything he had put her through? Prick. She raised her shoulders at him, and then asked, 'Anything else you want to bother me with? Because I need to get home, to _our son_, and look after him.'

'I thought you said you were going to the pub?' Dave asked innocently, and she could have slapped him right there and then. How dare he talk to her like that? He was the one who had walked out on her, and he still talked to her like she was a silly bugger with shit for brains.

'Oh piss off,' she answered back, shaking her head in both disapproval and disbelief. Gill rose to her feet, grabbed her bag from her desk, making sure her glasses were inside, and was just grabbing her coat from the stand by her office door when Dave grabbed her by the elbow and reeled her back in. She looked up at him venomously and hissed, 'What the hell do you want now?'

He looked down at her, released her arm and took a step back to ensure no harm came to him. 'I was just wondering if I could take you out for dinner tomorrow.'

If she had been shocked by racial murders occurring in the 21st century, that was nothing compared to the look of sheer disbelief patched across her face right now. Her eyebrows were raised so high that they seemed to disappear into her hairline and her motuh seemed to be suddenly hanging open. He smirked again, and that brought her to her senses.

'Excuse me?'

He took that step back towards Gill, so his face was practically resting against hers and whispered, 'I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner. With me. Tomorrow evening.'

'I, erm,' Gill began, her tongue betraying her, not knowing what to say. The neurons in her brain were having a massive malfunction, and refusing to cooperate with the restof her body. And then something came to her rescue. But not in the way that she hoped.

Gill put a big smile on and replied, 'Sure. I'm free tomorrow evening – it'll be a Friday right?'

Dave looked back at her with the same surprise she had displayed but quickly glossed over it, like he had been expecting this outcome the whole while, and he said, 'Well, I'll pick you up from here after work and we can head out to a nice restaurant. I'll make a booking at the Desi Lounge.' Gill nodded along, not quite sure of what she had just agreed to and what was happening at the moment. 'I'm looking forward to it,' he added, and what terrified her the most was that he actually sounded like he meant it.

He leant down and briefly kissed her on the cheek and then left, leaving Gill trying to come to terms with what had just happened.

**Scott&Bailey**

Half an hour later, Gill was sat in the company of the two women she probably trusted most in the world, a bottle of red wine in her firm grip. She was actually shaking with what appeared to be rage as she poured herself an extremely generous helping and splashed half the bottle onto the wooden table they were crowded around. She could see Rachel and Janet giving each other strange looks concerning her, and she knew that she might as well tell them now why she was being so sharp with them.

'I reckon I'm developing that bloody Stockholm syndrome,' she muttered, taking a large gulp of her wine and calming down slightly as the alcohol began to knock around her system. Janet looked confused first, whilst Rachel concentrating on remembering what exactly Stockholm syndrome was.

Janet looked very concerned, and Gill could see her putting on her interview voice. 'What – where you feel empathy with your kidnapper? Gill, you haven't been kidnapped or anything,' Janet stated reasonably, like she was talking to someone very thick in the head. And whilst she had begun drinking, DCI Murray was not hammered at all yet, and her best friend's tone just felt _patronizing_.

'Well I know that, I'm not fucking stupid,' she snapped back, startling the two officers. Gill took a moment to calm down, knowing her anger was being completely misdirected. That stupid man, _who the hell did he think he was making her feel like this_? He had put her through enough, and made her question herself beyond doubt, and even quit the job she loved the most. 'But kidnappers tend to be seriously fucked up shitheads, and well, that perfectly describes the man in question doesn't it?'

The two officers took a moment to process what their boss had just said, and deemed it appropriate to ask, 'What, you mean Chris? What's he done?'

In all the stress she had completely forgotten about Chris. Technically, she was seeing him, and so if she was pissed off at any man, then it was a perfectly reasonable assumption that she was talking about him. Just in this case, she wasn't.

'No, not Chris. I mean _him_.' Gill implied her tone heavily on the last word of her statement, and to cover up how angry she was, she took a sip of her glass that depleted the rest of her wine stock by about half.

'Oh…Dave?' Sherlock asked, being the first to realize who she was on about. Gill was having a bit of fun seeing what she was saying whirring around in the heads of two of her most accomplished officers, and she was giving them spoilers until they eventually worked it out. Thinking about it, Stockholm syndrome was probably the wrong one. What she felt for Dave wasn't empathy – it was more like blind hatred that she couldn't quite go through all the way with.

'Yeah, that dirty bastard. Twenty years of marriage, and ever since the beginning, he's been having it off with half of Manchester,' Gill exclaimed, prompting a few dregs in the pub to turn and look at her like she was half-crazy, and she ran out of insults to throw at them all, having used the majority of them to describe her ex-husband in her head on the way over here.

'But Gill, what's he done now?' Janet asked, leaning over to take Gill's hand. That was the one thing about Janet that helped Gill to calm down. She didn't make her questions feel so prying when she was clutching onto her gently. She appreciated her friend being there for her, and the look in Rachel's eyes that said she understood how mad Dave was making her feel. How weak she was being made to feel, like the fool she was.

'He's only bloody asked me to do to dinner with him,' she exclaimed, her tone of incredulity hard to mistake, like she was trying to cover up how she had responded originally.

Both Janet and Rachel looked at each other, both seemingly relieved. It was Rachel's turn to talk, and in her broad Manchester accent, she reasoned, 'Gill, that's nothing. As long as you said no…' She left the statement hanging, as if she dreaded Gill to contradict it. And contradict it should would.

'As long as I said no,' Gill repeated, feeling Janet's steely gaze upon her, her best friend's grip on her hand tightening subconsciously. With her free hand, she poured another glass of wine, downed most of it and said, 'Which I didn't.'

'You said yes?' they both asked in unison, looking at their boss in horror, their expressions demanding an explanation.

'I was just so shocked that all I could do was agree. I didn't know what I was saying, I certainly hadn't been expecting it, and now I'm just going to have to get entirely pissed and hope he forgets about it, which he certainly bloody won't!' Gill suddenly yelled, standing up, wrapping her coat around her slight form, yanking her bag onto her shoulder and storming out of the restaurant. She could hear Rachel and Janet calling after her and running after her, but she didn't want to talk to them. She felt awful for yelling the moment she stepped out of the pub, but Dave had her just so wound up.

How was it that he could cheat for however many years – she didn't care to be specific here – and yet she still felt like the prat? He had abandoned her with a six year old child to go and living with Super Bitch who he had cleverly managed to knock up, and forced her to leave the best job in the world to look after her son. And God knows she had tried bloody hard, and he here was, asking her out for dinner like it was the simplest thing in the world? But she would go to dinner; she would go and make him see how brilliant she was without him, how much better she felt for finally being rid of him. How much better her life was when he wasn't there to mess her around.

**Scott&Bailey**

She didn't know how she concentrated at work the next day, but she did. The new case was a real mind-bender, and Gill found herself travelling to the outskirts of Bristol at half ten the next morning, where the body was still residing, having not been moved for fear of disturbing any helpful evidence. Sherlock decided to come with her, and the car ride there was pressuring and awkward as they both remained silent and chose not to bring up Gill's extreme behaviour at the pub last night.

Inside, Gill was fighting against two forces – a banging headache, and a nauseous feeling whenever someone mentioned the work "dinner". But she acted as boss, and she made sure stuff got done. The pathologist was called on site, and then the body was removed by midday before the flock of vultures could get in asking questions and snapping unwanted photographs to plague the front covers of these national newspapers.

Conversation was avoided all day, and Gill knew she shouldn't shut Rachel out – hey, the kid was clever and on occasion gave good advice – but she couldn't help it. Every time someone even mentioned Dave she seemed to close in on herself. And deep underneath the anger, there was the sorrow that she felt every goddamned day without him. What she kept refusing to admit was that she did still love him. And she hated herself for it, and denied it, but in the back of her head, she knew that if he asked, she would go tumbling back into his arms.

So here she was, Gill Murray, the toughest woman in the whole of the MIT, completely in the power of the man who had destroyed her life. Sometimes she would question why she married him, when the signs had been so obvious that he had been with other women even before he proposed to her. She supposed she knew about his staggering number of affairs, but she just chose to ignore it. She had been so ignorant, and she still was. In this way, she and Rachel were exactly alike. They both fell for absolute pricks, found out about them, but went back to them. It was like asking for a broken heart.

When they reached the station, Gill could feel her heart slamming against her ribcage and she could see that her hands were visibly shaking right in front of her. Her stomach was churning violently, and she felt like she was going to collapse from nervousness at any given moment. She almost laughed – Gill Murray, afraid of the _Big Bad Wold_. Evidently Rachel could see this as well, as she leaned over before they clambered out of the car and squeezed her on the shoulder. Gill said nothing, but Rachel could tell she was thankful for the support.

Inside her office, Gill waited for three solid hours, managing to do fuck-all, and changed her clothes. She had considered just wearing her work uniform – the blazer, shirt and sharp pencil skirt – but somehow it didn't seem right. No matter how she felt towards that man now, she still wanted to have a reason to look nice. She didn't have them very often. She had her nights with Chris sometimes, but he was just so young. Gill was old enough to be his mother, and they both knew it. She changed into the clothes she had brought into work with her – which consisted of a dark blue dress (yeah, a _dress_) and heels. But she kept the blazer – it was her safety net.

At half seven, when night was descending outside, Gill finally got sick and tired of waiting and made a move to leave. So he had to turn up then didn't he? Dave waited outside of her office for her, and when she exited and walked towards him to join him, he looked her up and down and smiled and said, 'You look beautiful.' Just like he used to.

For a moment, Gill could feel uncertain tears prickling in her eyes, but she forced them away and handed her bag over to Dave and said, 'You can carry that if you want. Are we walking or driving?'

Dave took her bag underneath his elbow for a moment, unsure of what to do with it, before answering her question. 'I thought we would walk. The restaurant's only a few hundred yards down the road, and that means we can have a drink. We're probably going to need one,' he added on the end in a hushed tone that implied she wasn't supposed to hear it. Gill left her bag inside her car, and pulled her black jacket on over her blazer.

The tension as they walked was almost unbelievable. Considering that they had spent twenty years together – whether or not it had been happy at times – the atmosphere felt new and untested, like they were a completely new couple, testing out their relationship. Gill felt like she was starting to slip back into how she used to feel for him, and was trying with all her might to get out, but she couldn't. It was like being stuck in sinking sand, and he was the only one who could help her out – by buggering off. And by the way he was being so kind and complimentary and chatty, she couldn't see that happening any time soon.

When they entered the restaurant, it suddenly hit her that she hadn't told Sammy where she was going tonight and exactly who she was going with. When she had gotten home last night, she had been barely literate from the booze and had basically collapsed in a heap on her bed. Of course Sammy hadn't been surprised, she was like this a lot, but it still hurt when he called her up on it. She quickly excused herself to the bathroom where she texted Sammy to tell him she would be out late again tonight, and to reapply her make-up. She rearranged her hair, and put in the earrings she had forgotten to earlier, and the n felt disgusted at the effort she was making.

_He cheated on you. He left you. He left Sammy. He got an officer pregnant. He went and lived with her instead. He forced you to leave your job. He mocked you. He ruined you. Gill, what the fuck are you playing at?_

She had to admit, the food was prime, although the conversation was weak. They talked about work, the current case they had going on, and how brilliantly it was being handled by some of the newer recruits – although once or twice Gill slipped up and called them "the babies of the force". They joked, which was a feat in itself, but the atmosphere was still neglectful. Halfway during her korma, Gill noticed that he had never actually supplied her with a reason for her to go to dinner with him. He had asked, she had confusedly accepted – where was the logic? Shouldn't he be with Super Bitch and the kid?

'So, was there any actual point in asking me to dinner? Or were you just lonely whilst Super Bit- sorry Maria was back in Warminster?' Gill interrogated, although she tried to keep her tone reasonable and light-hearted. She drank some of the white wine – which was her least favourite – in front of her and waited for an answer. Surely she should have thought about this earlier. If he was trying to get a favour out of her, then he could piss off. She wasn't going to be tricked into doing something for him when he could probably get off his lazy arse and do it himself.

Dave shifted uncomfortably, and wiped his mouth with his napkin. He looked at Gill, and he looked deep. He was trying to see if she was genuinely interested in what he would say, or if she was just being her usual self and trying to see the logic behind everything. Finally, he just came out with it. 'Maria and I have decided to take a break, and I'm moving back up here for a few months whilst we sort everything out.'

'So I'm the rebound? Well you can take a bloody hike if you're planning on screwing me over last time!' Gill hissed, repulsed by what he was saying. He was just trying to get her to come back to him, in simple terms. That man was a monster. What was she even doing here?

Realizing he had slipped up, Dave managed to grab her wrist before she could fully stand up, and pull his ex-wife back down into her seat so he could have a go at explaining himself. 'I didn't come back to "screw you over" Gill. I missed you, honestly, and Sammy. I…' he hesitated, looking down at his unfinished curry with guilt seeping into his voice, 'I made a mistake. And I'm sorry.'

It felt like someone had punched her in the face. After all this time, he thought he had made a mistake? Then why hadn't he come back? And _sorry_? Was that all he could manage – a pathetic, one lined apology that he couldn't force together when he left all those years ago. She was too emotional to say anything in accordance to that, and so Dave changed the subject with a certain degree of haste.

'You don't look like you've been sleeping well,' he commented, something which sounded dreadfully like concern for her invading his tone. She looked at him properly for the first time, and felt rather deflated. It did seem, and forgive her if she was mistaken, like he really did care for her. And that's when she began to fall.

Gill had never really had anyone. Her sarcastic nature and harsh words had driven people away all of her life – even her mother had disapproved of the way she functioned. But it was the only way she could survive in an industry where men had previously ruled. People who looked out for her were scarce, and when someone made it clear that they wanted to be there for her – Janet, Rachel, and Chris – she let them in. Oh it took time, but she let them in. And judging by the amount of alcohol she had been slurping at for the past hour, she realized it wouldn't be long before she let Dave back in as well.

'Yeah, well trying doing my job and then attempt to sleep the whole night through without a bottle of wine to cuddle with,' she tried to snap back, but it was half-hearted, and Dave realized this. He gently took hold of Gill's hand and entwined his fingers around his own, softly caressing her skin, melting her down into putty in his hands.

**Scott&Bailey**

'You bastard! Why would I have ever gone back to trusting you, eh? What the hell was I bloody thinking? That you'd changed? That you cared?' Gill roared as she slipped her dress over her head whilst she was perched on the edge of the bed. Dave was sat up against the backboard, and his concerned demeanour seemed to have all but slipped away. He was smirking again. She would easily head-butt him right now.

Forget that, she could kill him. Literally.

'How stupid was I?' Gill continued, bending over to retrieve her shoes from underneath the bed, 'God, a quick shag was all you wanted wasn't it? Having problems at home, so you thought you'd come and find the ex for a late night fix up?' She grabbed her shoes and squashed her feet into them as quickly as possible. Gill picked up her blazer from the floor, hit it violently to get rid of the creases from where it had been lying on the floor for a few hours and the slid it on.

She looked at her ex-husband, and a shudder ran down her spine, and tears once again threatened to fall down her cheeks. He had used her. He had pretended that he cared, that he was sorry and he wanted her back, but he had been lying. Like she said earlier, he hadn't been getting it at home, so he came crawling back to her. The slime-ball.

Gill felt utterly betrayed, and in a way, kind of violated as well. That was ridiculous though, because for betrayal to feel real, then she would have had to trust him in the first place. And she hadn't, had she? But then again, when he said, _it's too far to walk home on your own, come and stay at mine for the night_, she had believed him? Sure, she might have been more than a little hammered, but she had truly believed that he was being honest.

God she was a total prick. A stupid, worthless prick.

When she had walked into his apartment, she should've known she was being had. There was no sign that he was staying here for a few days, let alone a few months. When he had offered her wine, she should have said no, but she said yes, and became more and more susceptible to his advances.

When he kissed her, she shouldn't have kissed him back. She should've punched him in the face or broken his jaw, or knocked some of his teeth out for even trying this sort of thing. But no, her brain addled by alcohol, and her desperation to feel loved by the man that had destroyed her took over. She had no control over herself or the situation as it deepened and became even more desperate.

When she woke up in his bed at three o'clock, and he was still asleep next to her, an arm wrapped around her bare shoulders, she should've have quietly pushed him off and made her escape then. But instead, she stayed and she felt happy. She smiled. When his phone had buzzed, she had been confused. Who would be texting him at this time in the morning? The only possible explanation was that it was the senior police force with something that had happened. And surely if she was a DCI, then she was entitled to see it.

Instead, she saw the whole conversation.

_I missed you 2nite. When can I c you again? xx_

_Tomorrow. I'm free tomorrow evening._

_I love _

_I love you too babe. _

This conversation, and a hundred others like it, were all with a girl called Sarah. He had used her again, and not even with the person he was supposed to be living with at the moment. She felt utterly humiliated. She remembered again why she had nicknamed him "Dirty Dave". He was a lying, cowardly bastard, and she made no mistake about concealing her disgust at him. For the briefest of moments, she had even felt sorry for Super Bitch, and then her rage at Dave had completely burst out, and that's why as she left, she slammed the door behind her, and stormed down the deserted street. She didn't know exactly where she was, but she had the vague clue that Janet lived around here somewhere. So she navigated and within about twenty minutes, she found herself knocking on the door of the Scott's residency, unsure of where else to go.

**Scott&Bailey**

Janet rolled over in her double bed to glance at the clock, a barely disguised yawn disfiguring her features for a few brief moments. Who the hell was knocking on her door at this time in the morning? She tried to ignore it, but after five minutes and no signs that the noise was going to cease anytime soon, she pulled herself out of bed with a large groan and wrapped her dressing gown around her. She traipsed down the steps, adamant that if this was someone playing a joke on her then she would arrest them. Not bothering to look through the little hole in the door, and only wearing pajamas and a blue dressing gown, Janet swung the door open to reveal…Gill?

The first thing Janet thought was _why is Gill here_? and then she remembered that tonight had been her big night with…oh. And judging by the look on her face, it hadn't gone well. 'Gill, do you want to come in?' Janet asked, and Gill nodded quickly and strode into the house, throwing her coat onto the end of the banister and disappearing into the living room. Startled by the sudden turn of events, Janet entered the kitchen, made two cups of steaming tea and brought them into the living room.

_Gill was a mess_, she could tell; not physically, but emotionally. They had been best friends for eighteen years – they knew when something was up. Janet did not even need to say anything, but she handed Gill the tea and wrapped her arm around her shoulders, holding her tightly. Gill placed the tea mug on the table in front and burst into ugly tears for the first time in ten years.

This was the first time Janet had ever actually seen Gill cry, and after all the shit that they had been through, she knew that something incredibly bad had happened. She was so strong, so fierce and so independent, and she knew that only Dave could damage her to this extent. So she shifted slightly, and pulled Gill into a large embrace and hugged her tightly as she sobbed into her shoulder, unable to keep her heartbreak to herself. All the while, Janet was thinking of very inventive ways in which to kill Dave Murray. 'Sssh, come on Gill,' she whispered soothingly after about ten minutes when Gill's tears had become silent with only the odd hiccup emanating from her, 'Tell me what happened.'

Gill pulled away from her, but could not bring herself to look into Janet's face. She couldn't stand the pity she knew was there. 'Is it alright if I stay here until I have to go to work?' she stuttered timidly between sniffs, so out of character that Janet wondered if this was actually Gill and not just some random stranger who happened to look similar to her. She was shattered into pieces, waiting to be blown away and never to return.

Janet nodded her head fiercely, and brought down a pillow and a quilt from upstairs and made up a comfortable little bed for Gill to rest in until daylight. She squeezed her hand and whispered goodnight before returning to bed, her sorrow for Gill causing her to ponder what exactly Dave had done.

Downstairs, Gill just quietly cried into the pillow Janet had given her. She had made a big mistake, and she couldn't face Dave at work anymore. But she couldn't leave, not again. She felt like an idiot, and he was going to be throwing this in her face as soon as possible, and she was hurt beyond all belief with all her pride and dignity having circulated down the drain. But she had Janet's kindness, Rachel's deviousness, Kevin and Mitch's comforting manner and Andy's management skills to keep her going. She was disgraced and weak, and still crying, but she had her team. And she loved them for being the only people in the world to care.


End file.
